


trust fall

by noahfronsenburg



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: "jon what if youre wrong about who shadowhunter is", Age Difference, Biting, Breathplay, Choking, Intercrural Sex, M/M, May/December Relationship, Mildly Dubious Consent, Morning Wood, Somnophilia, no betas we die like men, then my friends i am going to put myself in a pod and launch myself into the sun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 13:08:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16724001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noahfronsenburg/pseuds/noahfronsenburg
Summary: he was sharing his bed with a predator, yes, but a tamed one





	trust fall

**Author's Note:**

> koji mr funny man fox who haunts my dreams and nightmares is personally keeping me from capping slabs because of how hard my enormous 900ft long dick is every time """"""""""shadowhunter""""""""""""""""""""" and alphinaud start violently flirting onscreen

He woke abruptly, hot, trapped in the tangles of their bedroll, and struggled for a moment to recognize, rationalize, where he was. The gut instinct, the oppressive pressure and smog of armor and helmet and the pungent scent of smoke were usually what woke him, insomnia half of memory and half of regret, but that did not seem to in any way be the problem here, what had woken him now.

Instead, he was soaked in sweat, his heartbeat loud in his throat. He rolled sideways, fingers halfway out to touch _Heirsbane_ where the gunblade lay next to his side of the bedroll, he took in a breath of cool air from outside the cocoon of heat that he and Alphinaud shared, eyes flicking around the tent. It was all quiet outside, and Alphinaud had not so much as stirred, and he was usually a light sleeper.

Between his thighs, his cock, half-hard, throbbed.

He sighed, shifted back into the bedroll after kicking it off his legs to cool down, and pressed his face back into the hair at the back of Alphinaud’s neck. He was too old to deal with this sort of thing; he wasn’t vacating his bedroll to piss when he didn’t really need to, and he was going to go back to sleep. He’d only finished his watch a handful of bells ago, and had barely managed to fall asleep, exhaustion dragging him down even as circling thoughts kept him awake, and now he was up again. Alphinaud, who rose habitually with the dawn so took evening watch, was warm and soft with sleep, his skin coal-hot where his shirt was rucked up, and he slid a hand down the base of the younger man’s stomach, fingers tracing the scattering of hair below his navel.

Alphinaud barely stirred, rolling slightly further over, face pressed down into the blanket that he had balled up to use as a pillow, pulling it over his eyes and pushing back into him with a noise low in the back of his throat, a little rumble that made his entire body briefly vibrate. Alphinaud’s legs bent back, toes curled against the front of his shins, and he hesitated but a moment, leaned over the elezen and pressed a kiss against the curve of his neck, just below the hinge of his jaw. Alphinaud needed to shave—stubble tickled his cheek—but didn’t stir beyond hitching closer to him, chasing his heat, stilling, his breath evening back out.

He shut his eyes, curled more around Alphinaud, one arm draped heavily over his waist, and breathed out.

Alphinaud’s ass was pressed against his dick.

He let out a slow breath, and shifted, trying to roll to the side. He was _tired_ ; they had to get up after dawn and start moving again. Not spend the night with an erection. Alphinaud muttered unhappily at his shifting, and pushed backwards, hitching his ass up and into his erection. Alphinaud didn’t rut, but it was just barely, and he curled his arm around the younger man’s waist, tugged him backwards, pressed in to see what he would do.

Alphinaud made another pleased, low noise. Did not otherwise stir.

His breath was starting to come harder, rougher, faster. His earlier semi was now most-of-the-way hard, and tucked into the heat of the underside of Alphinaud’s ass. Tentatively, he tried sliding his hand lower, beneath the band at the waist of Alphinaud’s smallclothes. He tugged downward, pulling smallclothes with Alphinaud’s sleep trousers (stolen, as he’d had nothing of his own when they’d picked him out of the Burn, and it certainly helped to see, feel, Alphinaud in his old trousers, brought in round his narrow waist to stay on in his sleep) down his thighs.

Alphinaud shifted, let him, until his knees were tangled in his waistband, his legs tucked tight together. He was so hot, his skin velveteen with sleep, and the noises he made just went straight to his cock. He spat on his hand for a little extra slick, and pressed between Alphinaud’s soft thighs, pressed tight together by the angle, put his knee atop the other man’s thigh and held it down, so that the weight narrowed the channel.

It was just the right amount of friction. He’d not been close before, hardly even interested, but Alphinaud, hot and whining against him, was nearly as good as the friction on his dick. A hand between Alphinaud’s thighs, sliding into it every time he thrust home, the head of his cock brushing the low hot hollow of Alphinaud’s balls, the underside of his shaft as it grew hard. He curled tighter around the younger man, face buried into the sweaty hollow of his shoulder where it was bared by his loose tunic, pressed his nose into the hinge of Alphinaud’s jaw. Alphinaud shifted, thighs tightening, squeezing, and hummed a low moan, twitching as he curled back against the younger man, rocked into him.

Alphinaud still didn’t wake, though, and the allure of that _trust_ , that Alphinaud felt safe wrapped in his arms even knowing who and what he was, that was what made his cock throb, his erection burn. That Alphinaud just turned toward him with a quiet noise of affection, hand brushing over his arm, stirring but absolutely certain that the presence around him was safe.

He had one hand free, trapped beneath Alphinaud, and he wiggled it free, cupped his cock beneath Alphinaud’s, letting the head of his erection brush against his palm while he took hold of Alphinaud’s hardening length, stroking him in time, until he was fully hard.

And then he took hold of Alphinaud’s throat in his other hand, and began to squeeze. Gently at first, until Alphinaud was waking, twitching, and he was nearing his peak, spurred on by the little gasping breaths Alphinaud was making as he woke, shifting, jerking. He tightened his grip, cut off air, until Alphinaud was twisting awake, gasping, jerking and thrumming as a plucked string in his arms.

He bit down hard on the top of Alphinaud’s shoulder to muffle his noise, hard enough that blood, copper and iron, burst on his tongue. “Gaius?” Alphinaud whispered, his voice cracked and hot with agony, and it was low and rough in his ear, a plea and a shock to his conscience all at once, and Gaius stiffened in arousal as he came, spilling against the underside of the younger man’s cock. Alphinaud was still hard, making hurt little noises as he struggled to breathe around the hand that clenched down on his throat, but he didn’t try to pull away, didn’t pry the fingers from his windpipe.

Alphinaud just rolled back into him, head lolling against his shoulder, fingers white-knuckled as he grabbed at the wrist beside his dick, and his hitching breath as he tensed, knees tilting toward his chest, turned into rough whines as he came. By the end of it, Gaius’ hand was sticky from both of them, and Alphinaud was boneless in his arms, gasping against the column of his throat, nose pressed to the curve of his jaw.

Gaius surreptitiously wiped his hand off on his smallclothes, and made a note to change them in the morning.

“Not that I’m complaining,” Alphinaud murmured, his Sharlayan accent slurring his words softer with sleep. He rolled over further, hitching his trousers back up to his waist, and threw his arm over Gaius’ hip, face pressed into the hollow of his throat, hair spilling across their bedroll, “But to what do I owe the pleasure?” He was already dropping off again, despite the hand-shaped bruise that would probably be purpling the base of his throat in the morning, utterly content in his knowledge that he was sharing his bed with a predator, yes, but a tamed one.

Gaius sighed, and unwillingly extracted himself from the younger man, who cursed tiredly at him. It was remarkable just how much _limb_ Alphinaud had to deploy when he wanted to, somehow sticking himself on like a limpet, only to immediately curl into the newly-vacated warm spot left behind. As he struggled to his feet, yawning into the back of his hand so widely that his jaw cracked, he replied, “Morning wood.”

He heard Alphinaud’s muffled laughter chasing him all the way to the edge of camp, and resigned himself to the exigencies of sleeping with a man who did not yet know the agony of having to piss three times a night.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr/twitter @jonphaedrus


End file.
